Early tonight, before I realized how awful the event we were in the process of heading towards was going to be, I offhandedly joked that, "You can only open your mind so much before your brain falls out."
Boy, was that prophetic. Being open-minded can come back to bite you in the ass.
You see, tonight I was convinced to go to some random nightclub in the middle of ghetto Arlington for salsa dancing lessons. Not only that, this was a nightclub with a dress code -- no jeans, no sneakers. So, I did what any girl would do -- I primped. I took my hair out of the ponytail. I put on eyeliner and mascara. I wore a dress. Heck, I even wore a push-up bra -- and trust me, the girls looked good.
Sadly, it was a waste of all of the effort. The nightclub, for lack of a better word, stunk. It was pretty much empty. And, to the extent that there were people there, there were way more women there than men -- which was not entirely unexpected -- but most of the men there were really old. Plus, despite the dress code, many of the people in attendance were, indeed, wearing jeans.
To add insult to injury, they played two Ricky Martin songs before the salsa lessons even started.
So, rather than dancing with an icky old random guy, with one of my female friends, or by myself, I opted to sit down and watch -- figuring that I could put the merengue knowledge to use once I had someone worth merengue-ing with. But within minutes, someone who is even less open-minded than I am convinced me to leave.
So we went to go hang out with another friend, who was watching football at a local sports bar, and then we ate ice cream. Sure I was way overdressed, but it was way more my speed. And way more fun.
The moral of the story is that the next time I feel like dressing up, I'm going to a sports bar instead.
8 comments:
You're lame Dara. It actually turned out to be fun. And there were some young, cute guys at the far end of the room who were really sweet (oops, not your type then, I don't know). We rotated around the room. I think the thing is sometimes you have to try something different, but it only works if you keep an open mind. And no, it doesn't have to be salsa dancing. Clearly you've decided that's not your thing.
And no, we did not dance to any Ricky Martin.
And 45 minutes does not make a night. You then had fun watching football, so not a big deal.
DSL: Rule number one on this blog is that there's no name calling.
But whatever.I went with an open mind, and was quickly disappointed. And, for the record, I generally like salsa dancing. But last night, I didn't have fun. I, however, was left with no choice but to leave when the person with whom I drove decided to walk out -- because nothing says "fun evening" like your friend storming out.
Moreover, I did not say that you danced to Ricky Martin -- they just played two of his craptastic songs before the dancing even started -- or even that there were no young guys -- it was mostly old guys. It wasn't worth getting dressed up for.
I hate when I get all decked out for no good reason.
Oh well. Worked out in the end. 'Cause you were the purdiest girl at the second spot of the night.
Me too. I should have kept on my jeans and "I'm the Evil Twin" t-shirt, skipped the salsa dancing, and headed straight to the sports bar. Or I could have totally owned the sports bar in my fancy teal sweaterdress, heels, and overdone eye makeup. But no, I just sat there with my friends, watching football and baseball, while drinking my diet coke and eating my potato skins. Even that was a waste of the dress.
Turned out to be half and half. I was surprised that you felt you needed to drag Inbal out when you told me that she was in no mood to go out. Dara, you're not old yet.
Dara, we've known each other long enough to give each other a hard time. You're about as dry and sarcastic as anyone I know. I just get tired of people complaining.
DSL: I talked Inbal into it the same way you talked me into it. Remember?
And I may be dry and sarcastic on the outside, but you forget that I have a sensitive gooey marshmallow center. By the time you weighed in, I had taken enough abuse about salsa dancing at that point -- just not on the blog.
Besides, blogs are for complaining. If I didn't kvetch (or talk about baseball, music, and tv), what would be left?
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